Two for the Road
by Madj
Summary: Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Two for the Road

**Summary:** Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Leverage." Clearly.

* * *

It only takes minutes for everything to fall apart.

Nate and Sophie are working the mark, offering an irresistible bribe in a deserted warehouse with Hardison across the street in his van, ready to back them up as needed.

Eliot and Parker are in the mark's office across town, swiping evidence of the other numerous bribes he'd taken to cover up all manner of crimes. Dustin Sullivan is known as a fixer, but this time he'd fixed the wrong case.

A young girl had been killed in a hit-and-run, and the wife of an up-and-coming politician had been behind the wheel. The girl was a nobody, her family solidly middle class, and Sullivan made the whole thing go away.

Fortunately, like all paranoid criminals, Sullivan was known to keep detailed records of who he had helped, and how, squirreled away in his expensive wall safe. Eliot is watching Parker fondle the safe and half-listening as Sophie brilliantly reels Sullivan in.

"He's about to take the bait, Parker, hurry up," he snaps.

"Do you want to do this?" she asks crankily. "Then be quiet and let me —"

Her frown changes to a brilliant smile, and she turns the handle on the safe with a small flourish. She pulls out a stack of cash, holding it lovingly to her chest, before unearthing something small from the safe's depths.

"Flash drive," she says. "Hardison can —"

She freezes as, over the comms, Sophie lets out a horrified gasp. A moment later, there's a strangled "No!" from Nate, then nothing.

Just silence, until the deafening sound of an explosion.

He drives as fast as his truck and the traffic will allow, but by the time they get to the warehouse, it's engulfed in flame and swarming with firefighters who won't let them near the building.

Parker leaves his side almost immediately, running for the van. Eliot trails more slowly. Hardison hasn't been answering on comms or his cell phone, and Eliot is afraid of what they might find in the van.

"Parker, hold up," he calls, but she's at the van, yanking the door open before he can stop her.

The van is empty, the computer still spinning up data on Sullivan, a bottle of that orange crap Hardison loves spilled on the floor.

"He must have gone in after them," Eliot says, finally.

Parker doesn't answer.

They collect Hardison's laptop and stand outside for over an hour, watching the firefighters' hopeless battle. Eliot hears one of them say they could stop the fire from spreading, and that's the best they can hope for.

He has to hold himself back when, a half-hour in, Sullivan himself shows up. The businessman gives a statement to the press, looking unruffled yet suitably concerned, before hopping into the back of a Mercedes and taking off.

Eliot wonders if he just imagined a slight smirk on the man's face when he glanced their way. He considers leaving, but the slim possibility of finding survivors keeps him still.

At an hour and a half, the uneasiness he feels blooms into full-blown paranoia, and he can damn well _feel_ someone watching them.

"Come on, Parker," he says. She doesn't speak but follows along like a child.

* * *

It's a gamble to go back to the office, but he does it anyway. They both keep "go bags" there in case of emergency, and all of Hardison's computer equipment is there. The evidence against Sullivan was going to get out, despite the murders he'd committed to keep it hidden.

Sullivan may have killed his crew, but Eliot would be damned if he'd get away clean.

And, truth be told, he is looking for a fight. He wouldn't mind at all if Sullivan sent a few guys after them, especially if he's fighting on home turf.

But the office is empty when they get there.

As Parker wanders aimlessly, he gets to work, copying the flash drive. Using one of Hardison's dummy accounts — James T. Kirk — he e-mails the contents to every law enforcement agency and media outlet he can find. As he works, he almost hears Hardison's voice in his head, not-so-patiently explaining how a computer really works.

That task done, he looks around for Parker. She's running her fingers over another one of Hardison's computers and staring into space, so he's pretty sure she hasn't even considered their options yet. As he watches, she picks up a small replica of the Enterprise that Hardison had been playing around with the night before.

Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud.

He feels responsible for her, a feeling that might have pissed him off in the past but just seems natural now. The team was his family, and now she's all that's left.

"Get your stuff," he says gruffly. "We gotta go. Now."

She stares at him for a moment before nodding. Five minutes later, she meets him at the front door with one bag stuffed full of God-knows-what.

Neither one of them looks back.

* * *

He drives with no particular destination in mind. After about an hour of driving aimlessly, he feels pretty certain that they're not being followed. He decides to stay in Boston for now; if Sullivan gets busted, he wants to know it.

If not … Eliot glances at Parker, who's leaning against the passenger-side window. If the cops don't go after Sullivan, Eliot will.

They stay the night at a crappy motel. He thinks he hears Parker crying in the next room but can't make himself go over there. He sheds a few tears of his own when he takes a shower, the evidence of his emotion washing down the drain with the water.

Two days and two more crappy motels later, the news of businessman Dustin Sullivan's arrest is all over the news. Eliot leans against the headboard of the bed and takes a sip of beer, watching as they show Sullivan's perp walk on a loop, the reporter talking about a multi-agency investigation triggered by an anonymous source. Questions are also being raised, she says, about an explosion this week at a warehouse police have tied to Sullivan.

He wants to feel satisfaction but finds himself disappointed that he didn't have to handle this in a more personal way.

"It's not enough," Parker says, and he barely manages to not spill his beer at the sound of her voice. She's stretched out on the other bed, glaring at the TV.

He doesn't even ask how she got into his room. It is Parker, after all.

"You shouldn't have sent them the files," she says. "We should have killed him instead."

He sighs. The truth is, he feels the same. But he feels a responsibility to his mentor to try and steer Parker in the right direction. "That's not what Nate would have done," he points out.

"Yeah, well," she says grimly, "Nate's dead, isn't he?"

Eliot doesn't even try to argue.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Two for the Road

**Summary:** Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Leverage." Clearly.

**Note:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Don't worry, folks, it's not really going to be a sad fic.

* * *

They spend a few days in New York City, Eliot trying to decide their next move. Parker's shown no interest in anything, letting him lead her around like a little kid. After their conversation about Sullivan, she hasn't said a word to him on her own. She answers questions, always in a dull, decidedly un-Parkerlike voice. He's starting to worry that she's really cracked this time.

And she's not the only one.

After two days in the same place, he starts to get that itchy feeling again, despite the fact that he hasn't seen a single sign that they're being followed. Despite that, he makes Parker grab her things at 2 in the morning and move to another rathole motel.

She does as he asks, of course, without a single word.

The next day, they're on the road again. He's stunned when, somewhere in Pennsylvania, Parker speaks.

"I'm hungry," she says. "Can we stop?"

They stop at a small diner, and he orders breakfast even though it's nearly 10 p.m. Parker orders a cheeseburger and a bowl of Froot Loops.

"How is it?" he asks.

She shrugs. "It's all right. Not as good as yours."

They're back in the truck before she speaks again. "Eliot … thank you."

"For what?"

"For sticking with me," she says. "I thought you'd leave me, but you didn't. But … if they're after us, it would probably be safer to split up."

He surprises himself by immediately shooting that idea down. "Nah," he says. "Better to stay together. I watch your back, you watch mine."

She nods, offering him a small smile. "I can do that."

By the time they hit West Virginia, the itch is gone altogether. Either they're no longer being followed … or they never were in the first place, and he's as crazy as Parker.

At breakfast one day, he hears the men in the booth behind them talking about an all-comers off-the-book fighting match that happens each weekend a couple towns over.

"You should sign up," Parker says.

"What?"

"You practice fighting all the time, but it's not the same as the real thing." She shrugs. "Plus, you know you want to hit something."

He starts up a conversation with the men, finds out how to sign up and ignores the smirk on Parker's face.

He could use the practice, and Parker is right. He _does_ want to hit something.

* * *

The first night, he only gets two fights. He's so efficient at taking down his opponents that it's almost boring, but he gets a few hundred bucks out of it. He also gets an invitation to return the next weekend for some more serious bouts, which he gladly accepts.

The next weekend is better. He fights three men, and though the first two aren't much of a challenge, the third clearly has military training and is damn good.

They fight, round after brutal round, bringing the bloodthirsty crowd to its feet. Eliot tries to tune out the crowd but can't help a tight grin at the sound of Parker screeching "Get him!" He worries a little, as he often does, at how good it feels to beat another man until he can't stand, but he can't help the fact that his blood is singing by the time he finishes off his opponent.

Despite the fact that he's exhausted and dripping with sweat, a curvy redhead attaches herself to him as soon as he's declared the winner, and he's tempted to take what she's so clearly offering.

Then he sees Parker, rolling her eyes and laughing … _really_ laughing at him. He'd be offended, but it's the first time he's seen her laugh since the explosion. He politely refuses the redhead's offer and, grabbing his gym bag, wanders over to Parker.

She's greedily fingering a huge wad of cash, presumably winnings from the night's fights.

"I bet $500 on you!" she says, grinning. "Next time, I'll bet more."

He shrugs. "Don't know if I'll do any more."

She hands him an envelope. "That organizer guy gave this to me. It's your winnings, plus you're invited to another fight. A bigger one, near Richmond. In two weeks."

He shrugs again and shoves the envelope in his bag. "I'll think about it."

Parker nods in the direction of the redhead, who's still lingering nearby. "I think that woman wants to have sex with you."

He laughs shortly, and it feels rusty, like he hasn't laughed in a hundred years.

"I can go back by myself," Parker offers, hesitantly. "If you want to …"

"Nah," he says. "Honestly, I'd rather just have a shower."

"Mmmm-hmmm," Parker hums, wrinkling her nose. "You do smell bad."

He laughs again, and this time it feels a little better.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Two for the Road

**Summary:** Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Leverage." Clearly.

**Note:** Sorry for the delay, but RL has been kicking my booty lately. Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

Eliot decides to fight in Richmond. The truth is, they could use the cash, and he easily recalls how damn good it felt to fight again.

On the way, he impulsively decides to make a stop.

Parker's been sleeping, curled up in the seat next to him, Hardison's toy Enterprise clutched in her hand. He doesn't realize she's awake until she speaks.

"Where are we?" she asks sleepily.

"Couple hours outside Richmond," he says. "I have a friend who lives out here. I know him from way back."

Instead of asking how they know each other, she just nods, and he's relieved that she doesn't need to ask every detail of his past. He figures Parker has enough of a past of her own that she knows better than to dig into anyone else's.

He thinks she's fallen asleep again, but when he pulls into Truck's drive, she sits up straight, looking around curiously. The driveway's a long, gravel road, and it takes them a few minutes just to get to the house.

He pulls in behind a giant black pickup and hops out, Parker appearing like magic beside him. He watches her in amusement as she looks around, wide-eyed, at the cute white farmhouse, huge garden, small henhouse. He knows, without even looking, when she spots the horses, grazing inside the neat rows of white fence beyond the house.

"Horses?" she whispers.

"Yeah, they've got a few," he says.

"Hmmm."

He can't tell what she's thinking, but before he can ask, the house's front door bangs open.

"Eliot Spencer, you son of a bitch!" Truck comes toward him, grinning. Eliot has never asked where the nickname came from, though he suspects it's due to the man's extremely large size. "I hope you've got that 800 bucks you owe me."

"I think you're remembering that wrong," Eliot says with a laugh. "It's _you_ who owes _me_ the $800."

As his friend shrugs, Eliot makes introductions. "Parker, this is Tom Jennings, better known as Truck. Truck, this is Parker. We're headed to Richmond, but I couldn't resist stopping by."

"Eliot!"

He grins and elbows Parker gently as the tall woman, blonde curls crammed under a baseball cap, heads over from behind the house. "That's the woman Truck tricked into marrying him," he says loudly.

"Hey now," Truck says. "I won her fair and square in that poker game, Spencer; I didn't even cheat that time."

"You … won her?" Parker asks wonderingly, and Truck just laughs.

"Don't listen to this guy," the blonde says, coming up beside her husband and whapping him not-so-gently on the back of the head. "I had my reasons for marrying him, though at times it is hard to remember them. And since both of these two were apparently born in a barn and have no manners, I'll introduce myself. I'm Cassie."

"Parker," she says.

"Pleased to meet you," Cassie says, talking a mile a minute as usual. "I've got a pot roast on that will feed an army, so we'll be set for dinner. Let's get your bags. You are staying, aren't you?"

Cassie insists they leave their bags in the front hall for Truck to take up, then settles them in the cheery apple-green kitchen with lemonade and cookies to tide them over while she finishes dinner. She's perfected the art of making pleasant conversation without actually asking questions that can't be answered, and Eliot is amused to see she has Parker chattering away in just a few minutes.

He's known Truck for years, and Cassie nearly as long, and it feels nice to just let his guard down a little and relax.

He's helping Parker to set the table for dinner and pondering how … normal she's acting. She's been different since the explosion, but he's almost certain that she's deliberately trying to tone down the crazy in front of his friends. It's kind of sweet of her, but he's afraid to thank her for fear that she'll decide to climb up on the roof or break into Truck's office safe or something.

"Got your bags up in your room," Truck says, coming into the dining room.

Eliot freezes. "Our … room?"

He doesn't even have to say more before Truck catches on. "Oh, shit, we thought you two were –"

Parker laughs loudly, and Eliot is irritated to find he's a little insulted.

"The other guest room is in the middle of a paint job," Truck explains, "but we could make up the couch for you."

Eliot mentally winces to think of his back after a night on their couch, but the truth is he's had much worse.

Before he can answer, Parker pipes up, walking around the table to stand next to him. "That's OK, Truck. We can share. As long as Eliot doesn't steal my covers." She waves a fork in Eliot's face as she speaks, a warning that only he would understand.

He chokes back a laugh, then before he can stop himself he steps closer and says quietly, "That's all right Parker, I don't even need the covers. I'm too hot."

While he knows from personal experience that the average woman would get weak in the knees at that tone of voice, Parker just snorts out another laugh and taps him on the nose with the fork before heading into the kitchen.

Truck watches her go, then turns to Eliot, his eyebrows raised. "You're really not …"

"Nope."

"Damn, boy, what's wrong with you?"

"It's complicated," Eliot growls, inexplicably annoyed.

Truck glances at the kitchen door again. "Ain't nothing _that_ complicated."

* * *

He's determined not to say anything or make a big deal out of it, but when Parker comes into the room wearing nothing but a long blue T-shirt, showing off miles of toned leg, he can't seem to help himself.

"You didn't have to do this," he says.

"Do what?" she looks at him blankly, but he knows – he damn well _knows_ – she's perfectly aware of what he's talking about. He's seen her pull that clueless act on Hardison more times than he can count, any time she just doesn't want to talk about something.

He considers calling her on it, but instead just waves at the bed. "Sharing the room?"

Parker shrugs. "Sleeping on that couch wouldn't be good for you," she says. "You have a fight coming up."

When he doesn't answer, she looks up and grins at him. "I'm planning to win some money betting on you."

He feels out of sorts, and he can't figure out why. He's not being forced to sleep on the couch, Parker is being perfectly agreeable, to the point of even trying to act normal in front of his friends. But for some reason, he just feels angry.

"That all I am to you, Parker? A meal ticket?" He knows he's being ridiculous; Parker probably has more money than he does, stashed in hidey-holes all over the world. And what she doesn't have, she can certainly steal for herself. He just wants to pick a fight with her, and he doesn't even know why.

"No," Parker says. "You're also my chauffeur."

When he just looks at her, she grabs a pillow off the bed and throws it at him. "You want to sleep on the couch, sleep on the couch. Geez."

She yanks back the covers and climbs in the bed, and after a moment he drops the pillow on his side of the bed and follows suit. She doesn't say anything more, just flips off the bedside lamp.

"Parker …" He wants to apologize, but that would require him explaining what's wrong, and he's afraid it goes back to Parker laughing when he flirted with her. It's Parker, for God's sake. He doesn't even know what got into him to flirt with her in the first place; he should be grateful that she took it as a joke. "You got that fork over there?" he asks, finally.

"Under my pillow," she mumbles.

He doesn't know if she's serious or not, but he plans to keep his hands off her covers – and everything else – just in case.

* * *

He wakes to the smell of vanilla and the warmth of someone curled around his body.

He opens his eyes to see a mass of blond hair. Parker's head is snuggled into his chest, her body is pressed against his, and one of her legs is curled around one of his.

All in all, not a bad way to wake up, and every part of his anatomy seems to agree. Gently, he starts to extricate himself from her before she wakes up and they have an embarrassing situation.

As soon as he begins to move, however, Parker mutters a protest and moves closer. He grits his teeth as she shifts, rubbing right up against his erection. If it were any other woman, now would be the time when he'd roll her onto her back and make both of their mornings with a quick round of sex.

But it's not any other woman; it's _Parker_.

He gently pushes her aside and climbs out of bed quickly, grabbing his stuff and heading for the shower.

He strips and turns on just the cold water, stepping in with a slight shiver. He lets his mind linger just for a moment on the feel of Parker's warm body next to his before he mentally puts her back where she belongs – firmly in the box labeled "family."

And that's where she's going to stay.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Two for the Road

**Summary:** Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Leverage." Clearly.

**Note:** If anybody is still reading this, I apologize for the delay. My computer died, my backups failed, and it took forever to get back on track. Boo.

* * *

It's been nearly a month since the explosion, and Eliot blames his foul mood entirely on that.

He's been distracted all night, even taking some hits he should have been able to avoid. But the pain actually feels good, makes him more focused.

He wonders again where Parker is. Until tonight, she's never missed one of his fights, and something in him almost needs her out there hollering for him to win. He misses seeing her flash him a thumbs-up, knowing that she's betting all her much-loved cash on him.

He hasn't seen her all day, and he wonders if she's finally run off on her own. The idea of it makes him angry, and he takes it out on his opponent. He pounds on the guy, and the fight is over in no time.

He scans the warehouse again, and there's still no sign of Parker, so he grabs his stuff and moves to sit in the corner, ignoring the women inevitably trying to catch his attention. Since the first one, he hasn't even been tempted to go home with anyone but Parker.

Things have been different between them since that morning at Truck's, despite his attempts to keep things the same. Now that he's seen her as a woman and not just "crazy Parker," he can't seem to think of her the same way.

Eliot's self-control is better than most, so he is mostly successful during the day at keeping Parker in the box where she belongs.

But at night, things are very different.

He can do with very little sleep, it's true, but those few hours of slumber are now filled with dreams of her. Dreams where he followed his instincts that morning at Truck's, waking her up with a mind-blowing orgasm. Or the one he has most often, of waking to find her on top of him, her mouth all over his body. It feels so real, he wakes hard and ready, only to be disappointed when she's not there.

She's taken to teaching him to pick locks. He's never much found a need for lockpicking before; a bit of charm, or force, pretty much gets him through any door he wants. But Parker insisted, and he had no real reason to say no.

But once while she was teaching him, she impatiently grabbed his hand in hers to guide him. Instantly, he flashed back to the latest dream, his eyes locking with hers. He nearly forgot to breathe. Like a damn high schooler or something, no control whatsoever.

The fact that he's losing control over himself pisses him off, and he finds himself taking it out on Parker, despite his best efforts.

Since that day, Parker has been different, too. After the brief rebound, she's gone back to being quiet again; he'll sometimes find her staring at him with an expression he doesn't recognize. It's like she's trying to see inside his head. He only hopes she never knows what's going on in his mind.

With a little time, he knows he can get over it.

But now she's disappeared, and he's afraid he's driven her off with his crappy attitude. Even Parker can only take so much. He tries to tell himself he'd be better off without her, but he doesn't quite believe it.

He has one more fight, and it's a tough one. He tries to put Parker out of his mind, but her absence grates on him. Again, he takes a few more punches than he normally would, which finally breaks him out of his funk. He goes after his opponent like a machine, ignoring every hit, rolling with the punches, and takes him down in a few hits of his own.

Collecting his winnings, he looks for Parker again, but doesn't see her anywhere.

He grabs his bag, but stops in his tracks as he's surrounded by a trio of fight groupies. They giggle and tell him their names, which he promptly forgets. One of them, he sees, has straight blonde hair. In low light, she could even resemble Parker ...

He sighs, shakes his head and moves around the girls to the door.

He's not going to sink that low. At least not yet.

* * *

He's driving through the deserted town, feeling like the only person left on earth. At this hour, all the good citizens of Podunk, S.C., are snug in their beds. He might actually be the only person awake.

There's a slight movement to the side, and he realizes that he's not quite as alone as he thought.

He doesn't even have to see her face to know it's Parker. Who else would be dressed head-to-toe in black, slipping stealthily away from the bank at 2 in the morning besides her?

He hits the brakes harder than he intended, and his tires screech a bit. He takes a certain satisfaction in seeing the figure stumble at the noise. She freezes, glancing over, then visibly relaxes when she recognizes the truck.

He grits his teeth as she waves, then practically skips over to the truck like there's nothing wrong in the whole damn world.

"Perfect timing," she chirps, sliding into the passenger seat.

He barely lets her get the door closed before he takes off. His hands slowly grip the steering wheel like he's strangling it as he attempts to keep his voice even. "Parker. What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing?"

Clearly his attempt to keep his voice calm is a total failure. She shrugs and slouches back in the seat. "I didn't take anything," she mumbles.

"You can't just go breaking into banks!"

"Why not?"

"It's illegal, it will draw attention."

Parker huffs. "I'm not going to get caught," she says, clearly offended. "Besides, it's not like those fights of yours are exactly legal, either."

"That's not the point!" Truthfully, he doesn't exactly know what the point is, but he's mad as hell. Here he was worrying about her, and she was out robbing a bank.

He pulls in at the motel, stopping in front of his room. "I didn't know where you were," he growls. "For all I knew, Sullivan could have gotten to you. You can't just run off whenever you want without telling me."

Parker shoves her door open and hops out of the truck. "I don't answer to you ... or anyone," she snaps. "I just wanted to look around, see what kind of security they have."

He doesn't answer, just unlocks his room and waves her inside.

"You get to practice your skills, why can't I?" she asks.

"No more banks," he insists stubbornly.

"You're not Nate. I don't follow your orders," she says, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Seriously, Parker? I've been carrying you this whole time, taking care of you after ... everything, and you can't just do one thing for me?"

She slowly unfolds her arms and steps back toward the door. "Sorry to have been such a burden, Eliot, but you don't need to worry about it anymore. We should have split up in the first place."

"Yeah, maybe we should have." His mind screams for him to take it back, but he doesn't.

"Fine," she says, yanking his door open.

"If you leave, I'm not waiting," he snaps. "I'm out of here."

She shrugs, then vanishes out the door, leaving it wide open.

"Fine," he says, to nobody.

Just perfect.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Two for the Road, part 5

**Summary:** Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** If I owned "Leverage," there would be E/P sexytimes all the time, so clearly I do not.

* * *

He waits.

He doesn't exactly plan to, but he can't bring himself to leave just yet. He's sure she'll be back in a few hours, but she isn't.

So he waits some more.

It's nearly two full days before she shows up.

He's sitting on the floor, back against the bed, watching an infomercial on gold - "don't trust your financial future to paper dollars!" - and drinking a beer when she appears, seemingly out of thin air. One moment he's alone, the next she's sitting cross-legged beside him, a brown paper bag at her side.

Anyone else probably would be startled, but Eliot just raises his beer in salute. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," she answers, then after a moment. "You waited."

He shrugs. "Had nowhere to be."

She nods, as though that explained everything. Then she slowly pulls the brown bag in front of her, taking out a bottle of Cuervo. "It's been a month," she says.

Eliot nods. "Yes, it has."

Neither one apologizes, not verbally, anyway. The look they share as Eliot opens the bottle says it all.

* * *

They're both pretty trashed, sprawled on the floor watching Kurt Russell in "Big Trouble in Little China" on some cable station.

Parker keeps giggling, repeating Russell's line, "It's all in the reflexes," and Eliot finds this hilarious for some reason he can't name.

She takes another sip from the bottle and waves it at him, waggling her eyebrows. He's watching her as he takes the tequila, suddenly fascinated as her tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip. He's certain it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

And then he's kissing her. For a minute, he thinks it's another one of his dreams, but it's so real, too real to be a dream. She gasps into his mouth and freezes for a second, but then she's kissing him back, arms going around his neck to pull him closer.

A tiny part of his mind tells him to stop this. Right. Now.

He tells that part of his mind to shut the hell up.

He starts to ease Parker onto her back, but easing is not really Parker's thing. She falls back, dragging him on top of her and hooking one leg around him to pull him closer. He's in a perfect spot to grind his hips against hers, making them both groan.

He moves his lips to her neck, grinning at the gasping moan that breaks out of her mouth, the jerk of her hands tightening on his shoulders. It's just like his dreams, only better. No matter how real the dreams felt, they can't compare to having Parker under him.

He slips one hand under the hem of her T-shirt, caressing the soft skin at her waist. But before he can do anything else, she freezes.

"Wait," she whispers.

He grits his teeth, slowly pulling his hand back. "Parker?"

"I ... you should know ..." she briefly meets his eyes, looking embarrassed, then stares straight at the ceiling. "I don't really ... like it. Sex, I mean."

Of all the things he thought she might say, that was nowhere on the list. "You don't like sex?"

She shrugs, still not meeting his eyes. "I just ... never saw what the big deal was."

Eliot sighs, unsure of what to say. What kind of idiot, he wonders, could be with a woman as passionate as Parker and not make sure she enjoyed herself? _Was it Hardison? _Immediately, he tries to put that thought out of his head.

"Parker," his voice sounds strangled, and he clears his throat before continuing. "If you let me, I can show you what the 'big deal' is."

She shrugs, "OK."

Clearly she doesn't believe him.

"Parker, look at me." When she shifts her eyes to him, he grins cockily at her. "I'm gonna show you."

"Mmmhmm. I said OK."

Still, she doesn't believe him. But that's OK. Eliot enjoys a challenge.

* * *

After, she's quiet for a long time.

He doesn't know what to say, so he just watches her, turning it all over in his mind, again and again. It was great, at least, for him it was. And he's sure it was good for her, too, based on how ... vocal she was at encouraging him. He hadn't expected that; just thinking about it makes his whole body hum again.

But he wishes she would say something.

At just that moment, she breaks out in a huge, crazy Parker laugh.

He opens his mouth to say something, but holds off.

Was the laugh a good thing or a bad thing? Should he be insulted?

She turns to him, smiling as wide as he's ever seen. "It's like ... jumping off a building!" She laughs again.

Eliot grins. He doesn't think he's received a better compliment, ever.

"I guess I was just doing it wrong," she says.

He frowns. "Darlin', take my word, _you_ weren't doing anything wrong. Whoever you were with was just a damn idiot."

He wonders, again, if it was Hardison.

Parker stretches lazily, then turns to face him. "No wonder those slutty women are all over you at the fights," she says.

Eliot grins again, shrugging. "It's all in the reflexes."

Parker's laugh is the best thing he's heard in a long time.

* * *

"Naked lockpicking," Eliot drawls. "We should've tried this from the start."

He grins at Parker, who's strolling across the room stark naked, carrying her bag full of locks.

It's been three weeks now since that night in South Carolina, and he's surprised at how normal everything is between them. Well, as normal as it gets for the two of them, anyway. They seem to be in sync, in a way, and Parker gets him more than anyone else he's ever been with. They just fit.

They have enough money stashed that he doesn't really need to fight, but he's still gone a few rounds since just for the practice. Hearing Parker cheering for him is even better when he knows that as soon as they return to their motel she'll have him in the shower, making sure every inch of him is as clean as possible.

They're still going south, for lack of any other plan, but Eliot's spent a lot of time thinking about their next move. He hasn't made any decisions yet, and Parker seems content to follow along for now. For his part, he's taken to ignoring it if she slips out some nights, dressed all in black. It's easy enough when he knows she's going to wake him up and jump him as soon as she gets back, anyway.

Parker has certainly taken to sex, and Eliot is more than happy to teach her everything he knows.

She drops the bag next to him on the bed, then digs through the locks, finally pulling one out.

"This one," she says, handing him the lock and her favorite lockpick set.

He shrugs and gets to work, a task made more difficult as Parker suddenly slides behind him and plasters her body to his, kissing his neck.

"Parker," his voice is strangled. "Do you want me to —"

"You have to learn to work around distractions," she says, and he can hear the laugh in her voice.

"I doubt in the real world I'm ever going to be trying to pick a lock with a beautiful naked woman rubbing up against me."

Suddenly she freezes, and sadly, the hand that had been making its way down his chest stops, too.

"You ... think I'm beautiful?" she whispers.

Frowning, he turns, tossing the lock on the bed. "You know you are."

She's picking at the sheets with one hand, not meeting his eyes. He wonders if it's possible that nobody has ever told her this before. Not for the first time, he wonders what kind of morons she's been involved with in the past.

He gently cups her face with one hand, forcing her to look at him. "Parker, I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever known."

Something about the moment feels serious, almost suffocatingly serious, so he continues, "And you can break into any safe known to man." He rubs his thumb over her bottom lip, finishing huskily, "The perfect woman."

She smiles, leaning in for a kiss. "I think you're beautiful, too," she says quietly. "But you are the worst at picking locks."

He huffs, then picks up the lock. In moments, it's open. Grinning cockily, he hands it back to her. "I'm not so bad."

She grins back, pulling the bag toward her. "I guess we can finally move on past the easy ones," she says, digging around in the bag.

He sees it then, quickly, just a flash of gray plastic between the metal of the locks.

Hardison's toy Enterprise.

He doesn't mean to say anything, but it's out before he can stop it. "Did you love him? Hardison?"

She stops, staring into the bag.

"I ... I'm starving," she says, closing the bag and standing up. She hurriedly starts grabbing clothes from the floor, where they'd dropped them earlier in their haste. She's yanking them on, looking anywhere but him. "I'm going over to the diner," she says. "You want anything?"

He shakes his head, not even knowing if she will look at him long enough to see. Apparently she does, because she disappears a second later.

_Idiot_, he thinks. He could kick himself.

* * *

She comes back much later. He's in bed, in the dark, but he's not sleeping. He watches as she strips off her clothes, tossing them back on the floor before climbing into bed beside him.

She slides in close, and he puts an arm around her, pulling her even closer.

"Hardison ..." she says softly. "He was the first person who liked me for me. Not for something I could steal for him or anything like that. I really ... I cared about him. But I never let it go anywhere, because I didn't want to disappoint him."

"Parker —"

He feels her shake her head. "Let me finish. No matter what he said I knew he thought, deep down, that he could _fix_ me, make me normal. But I'm just not. And I knew I would hurt him eventually, just by being me."

She turns her face into his chest, and he feels her breath on his skin. He searches for something to say. "Parker, there's nothing wrong with you that needs fixing."

She giggles, and in the dark he sees her lift her head. "You've been telling me since the day we met that there's something wrong with me," she points out.

Well, he can't argue with that. "Yeah, but that was before I got in your pants," he jokes.

She pinches him on the side, then cuddles back into him. "Watch it, mister," she says sleepily.

He stays awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to Parker's even breaths as she falls asleep beside him, and a weight he didn't even know he was carrying just melts away.

_I'll take care of her, Hardison._

tbc_  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Two for the Road

**Summary:** Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Leverage." Obviously.

**Note:** Apologies for the looooooong delay. I hate it when I'm reading a fic, and then the author takes like three years to update. So sorry that I'm part of the problem, not the solution! LOL. Only probably one more part after this, so I'll try to get it out in a timely manner. But no promises!

* * *

Eliot hates Miami.

It's too damn hot and crowded, and he's been cut off in traffic by half a dozen assholes just this afternoon.

But, he thinks, as he spies Parker sunbathing on the balcony in a tiny blue bikini, it does have its bright spots, too.

He tosses his keys on the counter and strolls to the sliding door, just watching her. They're staying in a nice place for once, a pricey condo on the beach with its own private balcony. They'd had to break out one of the identities Hardison had created for them, since this place was not the sort where you paid cash for a room, but Eliot is all but certain nobody is after them now, and he'd wanted to take Parker someplace nice.

She senses that he's there and waves a bottle of suntan lotion at him before flipping over onto her stomach.

"Do my back," she orders.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, taking the bottle. He starts smoothing the lotion onto her warm skin.

Yes, he reminds himself, there are a few good things about Miami.

"Eliot," Parker says, turning over slowly so his hand is resting on her stomach.

"Hmmm?" He is suddenly distracted, sliding one fingertip under the top edge of her bikini bottoms.

"Eliot," she repeats. "Let's steal something."

That gets his attention. "Let's what?"

She draws a newspaper out of the beach bag next to her. "Let's steal something," she says, grinning.

He takes the paper, which is folded to show an article on an exhibit of priceless jewelry opening at the museum. The star of the show, the article says, is a diamond and ruby pendant reportedly once owned by Catherine the Great.

"The Star of Milan?" he asks.

She nods. "We can do it. What do you think?"

He can tell this is something Parker really wants, so he puts aside the idea he's had percolating for a few weeks now. They can talk about it later.

"Anything you want," he says, and it scares him a little that he means just that.

She claps her hands together like a little girl, then laughs, throwing her arms around him. "Eliot?" she asks again.

"Yes, Parker?"

"Do you suppose this balcony is as private as they claim?"

He grins. "Well, I guess we're gonna find out."

* * *

They take a brief field trip to the museum, strolling the quiet halls hand-in-hand. Somehow it makes Eliot realize that he's never really taken Parker on a date, and he promises himself they'll do that after the job is through. The gallery holding the gem exhibit is quite a bit busier, with loads of tourists crowding in to see the jewels.

Eliot isn't one for shiny gems himself, but he does enjoy the avaricious gleam in Parker's eye when she glimpses the Star of Milan. She squeezes his hand tightly and grins up at him, and he's doubly glad he agreed to this job.

Parker plans everything herself, disappearing for half a day and returning with various mysterious supplies and a full set of blueprints for the museum. He doesn't ask where she obtained them, and he isn't offended when she waves away his help.

Instead, he just watches her as she paces the condo, muttering to herself and scribbling notes. He knows she could probably do the job alone, but being included makes him remember the feeling of being part of a crew.

He can tell the moment she figures out the way in; her entire body vibrates with excitement and her smile lights up the whole room.

His suspicions about his usefulness are confirmed when she all but dances over to him, planting herself in his lap and smiling mischievously up at him.

"You," she announces, "are going to pick a lock."

"Uh, Parker ..."

Before he can finish, she's placed a lock in his hand. "Better practice," she says, hopping off his lap and returning to her blueprints.

So he does.

* * *

It goes off without a hitch.

Truth be told, he's a little nervous about picking the lock; he'd rather be given the job to kick some asses. But Parker's plans usually involve avoiding conflict, and this job is no exception.

No job they did with Nate ever went so smoothly; he had to hand it to Parker. She really was the best.

They were in and out in less than half an hour, and he's absurdly proud of himself for his blossoming lock-picking skills. He's so fast on the first door that Parker lets him pick another on the way out, without any practice at all. He knows she could do it much faster, but she offers him a gleeful high-five when he finishes anyway.

He's got champagne chilling back at the condo, and as soon as they get back, he pours a couple of glasses.

By the time he gets back to the living room, Parker is sitting on the couch staring at the Star of Milan.

She's frowning.

"It's beautiful," he offers hesitantly.

"It is," she says, not looking up.

"Parker ..."

"It's not the same," she says miserably. She looks at him, and he's alarmed to see her eyes are teary.

_Danger, Will Robinson!_

Eliot would rather face a room full of ninjas unarmed than one woman crying. Especially a woman he cares about.

"It's not the same ...?"

"It's not as good as when we help people," she whispers. "It's not the same."

He nods. This is the perfect opening. He offers her the glass of champagne; after a moment she accepts but doesn't drink.

Eliot takes a huge gulp, then rushes in. It's stupid that he feels nervous. Parker's tears have never actually materialized, and there aren't any ninjas anywhere, so it should all be good.

"Listen, Parker, I've been thinking. We've been just running around without any plan or ... or anything. And I miss it, too. Helping people, I mean," he says. When it looks like she might say something, he hurries to finish. "I think we should go back to it. Maybe back to Boston, even. But we should help people. We'd have to find a new ... some new people ... but I think that's what Nate would have wanted."

Eliot finally stops, moving to drink some more champagne only to find that he'd finished the whole glass in the first gulp.

_Why_, he wonders, _isn't she saying anything?_

He knows the idea of a new crew is probably hard for her; it's hard for him, too. But they can't do it alone. Will this be the thing that makes her leave him? He realizes that's what he's so afraid of, and he's nearly ready to take back the whole idea.

"I want to do it," she says. "I don't ... we can't replace them, but we can't do it alone."

She smiles and finally takes a sip of champagne, dangling the Star of Milan in front of her. "I guess we have to take it back," she says.

He shrugs, pouring them both more champagne. "That's up to you, Parker."

"We have to take it back," she nods, looking determined but a little sad.

He doesn't like the sad look, so he sets his glass on the table. "If you want," he says, snatching it out of her hand. "But first, I want to see you wearing this."

He draws it around her neck, fastening the clasp. He traces his finger around the chain, circling around the gem, which falls midway between Parker's throat and breasts. He drops his voice to a whisper, biting back a grin at the way her breath has gone shallow. "I want to see you wearing _just_ this."

To his satisfaction, the sad look disappears completely.

* * *

Later, as Parker straddles him on the bed, rising over him like some kind of goddess, he thinks again that there's nothing he wouldn't do for her.

She's naked but for the priceless pendant, like a porcelain Aphrodite trimmed in rubies and diamonds, but she's as fierce as the goddess of the hunt Diana as well. He clutches at her hips and she growls at him, making him choke out a laugh.

"Parker," he says roughly.

_I love you_, he thinks. But he swallows the words, pulling her closer for a kiss instead.

* * *

She's supposed to be shopping for a dress for their date, but she returns a couple hours later with no shopping bags at all.

"Didn't find anything you like?" he's mildly curious, but not very concerned. He's taking her to dinner at a fairly expensive oceanside place, but truthfully she could wear jeans and a T-shirt for all he cares.

"I took it back," she says.

"A dress?"

"The Star of Milan," she says.

"The ... Parker, what the _hell_? We agreed we'd do it together in a few weeks when all the hoopla died down! You could've gotten caught!"

"Eliot," she says, like she's talking to a child. "I don't get caught."

"But ..." He doesn't really have an answer for that, so he shuts up. "Security is insane at the museum right now. How did you get in?"

She grins and drops onto the couch. "I didn't take it to the museum," she says. "I left it on the museum director's kitchen table. With a note about the weaknesses in security."

"You left him a note." Eliot laughs in spite of himself and sprawls next to her on the couch. "Why didn't you tell me you were gonna do it?"

She shrugs. "I didn't think of it until I was out shopping, so I just went with it." She shoots him a glance. "I was afraid I might decide not to give it back, now that I have ... some good memories of it."

He grins, thinking of the gift he'd gotten her that morning. "I'm pretty fond of it myself, darlin'," he says. "Maybe we can steal it again sometime."

"It's a date," she says, laughing. Then she hops up, "Speaking of dates, I better go pick up my dress. I had them hold it for me."

She leans over and kisses him lightly. "I think you'll like it," she whispers with a little grin.

She practically skips from the room, and he sits listening to the waves through the window and smiling at the change in Parker. She's started to flirt with him like that, and he couldn't be happier about it. He takes it as a sign of her trust, and he promises himself he won't let her down.

* * *

He does, indeed, like the dress.

It's a dark ruby red, which will forever remind him of the Star of Milan, and clingy in all the right places. When she spins around for him, he sees to his delight that it has no back. She'd put her hair up, but loose enough that curls fell here and there, which he finds incredibly sexy.

"You look amazing," he tells her, and she blushes. "We could skip the whole dinner thing ..."

"Hey!" she smacks his arm. "I got all dressed up, and I was promised food!"

"Fair enough," he says, grinning.

The restaurant is nice, a little ritzy for Eliot's taste, but he's heard their food is terrific, so he's willing to deal with the overly-attentive waiter and Richie-Rich fellow diners if there's a good meal in it. After they order, he glances at the empty dance floor. Low-key piano music is playing, and he's been dying to get Parker in his arms since she twirled around the condo showing off her dress.

"Dance?" he asks.

She looks confused. "Nobody else is dancing," she whispers.

He shrugs. "More room for us. Come on."

"All right," she agrees, allowing him to lead her to the floor. The piano player sees them and immediately shifts into a bluesy "At Last," probably hoping for a big tip. Eliot pulls her close, sliding a hand along the small of her bare back.

She all but melts into him, making him smile.

"Parker?"

"Hmmm?"

"Care to pick my pocket? There may be something in there fo -"

Before he can finish, she's got the box in her hand.

"Open it."

He's done a crappy job of wrapping it, but it doesn't matter because the wrapping paper is forgotten on the dance floor a moment later. Parker opens the box and freezes.

He wonders if this was the dumbest thing he's ever done.

"I know you've probably got lots of way more expensive stuff, but I thought ..." He trails off as she pulls out the necklace, a ruby surrounded by diamonds. "I just thought a little reminder would be ... good."

_Good? And I used to be good at sweet-talking women._

"Nobody's ever bought me jewelry before," she says, smiling. The lighting isn't really bright, but he thinks she's blushing again. "Would you ...?"

"Yeah," he clears his throat and takes the necklace from her. He fastens it around her neck, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary.

They return to their seats, Parker grasping the pendant in one hand and grinning.

As soon as they sit, the waiter is back with a bottle of champagne.

"Champagne again?" Parker laughs. "I'm gonna get spoiled."

"I didn't -"

"Compliments of the gentlemen across the room," the waiter says.

Protective instincts on alert, Eliot scans the room, zeroing in on one face as Parker gasps.

Across the room, quirking his eyebrows and raising a glass in a toast, sits Nate Ford.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Two for the Road

**Summary:** Eliot thinks it would be safer if they split up, but he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Eliot/Parker

**Rating:** R

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Leverage." If I did, things would be _very_ different.

Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read, favorited, alerted and especially reviewed this fic. I probably wouldn't have finished it otherwise. I hope you enjoy the ending.

* * *

Eliot is paralyzed, his brain trying to catch up with his eyes.

Meanwhile, with a shriek, Parker is rushing across the restaurant, throwing herself at Nate.

Nate. Is. Alive.

The emotions flood him: Shock. Joy. Confusion.

The tiniest bit of embarrassment that he'd been so wrapped up in Parker that he'd not bothered to even look at most of the other restaurant patrons and had missed Nate sitting right there.

Nate.

He doesn't even consciously get up; he simply finds himself hugging his friend.

He tries to speak, but only manages to croak out a weak "how?"

Nate waves them into seats at the table. "It's a long story, but the short version is, Sullivan wanted to question us. Seems he had a side smuggling business operating out of a few warehouses like the one we were in. Sophie had him convinced the cops were seconds away from showing up, so he hauled us off and blew the place."

"We waited," Parker says. "We waited, but nobody came."

Nate sighs. "It took us a while to get free. It helped that Sullivan was suddenly arrested after a certain 'James T. Kirk' sent some incriminating information to the police. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Thank Hardison," Eliot manages. "So he's ... Sophie's ..."

"We're all fine," Nate nods. "We've been real busy looking for you two, though."

"We thought some of Sullivan's men were chasing us," Parker says.

"They were." Nate takes a sip of his drink. "I guess they gave up after they realized their boss was going to be spending the next decade or two behind bars."

"How did you find us?" Parker asks.

"Hardison couldn't find a trace," Nate says. "Until he finally got a hit last week on one of Eliot's old I.D.'s here in Miami. Then we heard that the Star of Milan had been snatched, so it seemed likely you were really here. When we got here tonight, we heard that the stone had been _returned_, and then we knew for sure."

Parker laughs. "You guys are awesome!"

"We got to the condo just as you were leaving, so I followed you and they stayed behind. Figured it would be better not to overwhelm you with all of us at once."

Eliot still can't quite manage to speak, but Parker seems to have no problems. "So we can go home now?" she asks.

"Yeah," Nate says, saluting them both with his glass. "We can all go home."

* * *

Hardison and Sophie are waiting back at the condo, and it's 20 minutes of hugs and "I'm so glad to see you!" and tears and Parker laughing at inappropriate times.

Eliot manages to find his voice, telling his crew everything that had happened to them in the past few months.

Minus a few details.

It isn't really a conscious decision, but as he watches Parker's brilliant smile while Hardison pulls her close, he knows what he has to do.

He hadn't intentionally stolen his best friend's girl. Nate saw them together at the restaurant, and he can tell Sophie is, at the very least, suspicious. There's nothing he can do about the past, but he can do his best to make sure that Hardison never finds out.

"When can we go home?" Parker asks.

"I've got you all packed," Sophie says, shooting a significant glance Eliot's way. The fact that they were only using one of the bedrooms has obviously been noted.

"We've got tickets on the next flight out," Hardison says, seeming oblivious to what's going on. "We'll be back in Boston and back in business before you can say boo."

"I'm driving back," Eliot says. He figures time and distance from Parker are his best bets at the moment. "I'm not leaving my truck."

"We'll be a lot faster on the way back," Parker says.

"No, you should fly back," he says quickly. "You can be home in no time."

Parker freezes, the smile slipping off her face. He feels like a dick, but he refuses to take it back. It's for the best. For Parker. For Hardison. For everybody.

"Don't be silly," Sophie says smoothly. "I'll drive back with you. I insist."

Perfect.

* * *

Sophie keeps her word.

To his surprise, she more or less keeps her silence. At least at first. He almost wishes she would say something, to distract him from the mini-movie that keeps playing in his mind.

He sees Parker, bag slung on her shoulder, trying to tell him goodbye. He sees himself dismissing her with a curt, "see you back there." Sees the flash of hurt on her face before it goes blank.

When Sophie does start to talk, she begins with just filling in the blanks, telling him what they'd been up to since the explosion, detailing Sullivan's fruitless appeals in the courts.

A day in, she segues into idle chit-chat. When she finally drops the bomb, he realizes she has been lulling him into a false sense of security.

"So what's up with you and Parker?"

"Sophie …"

"I ask because I know you two were sharing a bedroom."

"Leave it, Sophie."

"I'm not going to leave it," she says. "Do you know why? Because you're my friends, and I saw how it hurt her when you just dismissed her back there."

"I don't want to talk about this," he growls.

"Tough. Talk now," she orders.

Much to his surprise, he finds himself obeying. The miles fly by as he tells Sophie about their trip, the full story, beginning with them on the run and ending with seeing Nate at the restaurant.

"And now that we're going back home, you just decided to dump her? Got what you wanted out of her, so it's over?"

"No!" He turns to look at her, flinching. "It's not like that!"

"No?"

"I love her, all right?"

Silence fills the truck, stretching out to a painful degree as Eliot wishes he could take it back.

"Thought so," Sophie says smugly.

* * *

He thinks she's finally dropped the subject until they're half an hour from Nate's place, when she brings it up again.

"Do you think she'll just get over you and then move on to live happily ever after with Hardison?"

"It's for the best," he says again. "She doesn't love me. I mean, she never said … I know she has feelings, but she'll get over it."

"I suppose," Sophie says slowly. "She should be used to it by now."

"Used to what?"

"Being abandoned," Sophie says sweetly.

Eliot hits the accelerator. This drive, he thinks, can _not_ be over soon enough.

* * *

Things are strange. On the surface, everything is normal. He dreams of Parker at night, in her red dress, laughing and flirting with him. Kissing him. It's like torture to be around her, but he keeps telling himself he's doing the right thing. He's nothing if not determined, and he constantly watches himself to make sure he's treating her just like he did before.

They go back to work. Nate plans, Sophie scams and Hardison gets his geek on. The only thing different is that Parker doesn't talk to him.

At all.

She doesn't joke, she doesn't flirt, she doesn't poke at him, she doesn't mention their trip at all. She barely looks at him.

Everyone notices it, but nobody says anything until she nearly blows a job by refusing to pass a message to him at a crucial moment.

Nate corners him after, looking pained. "Fix this," is all he says.

Eliot puts it off for a day or two. He's afraid if he starts talking to her, all he'll do is beg her to take him back, and then he's back to poaching his best friend's girl. But he knows Nate's right, the situation is getting out of control.

He tries to get her attention after their briefing, but she looks right through him and slips downstairs. Gritting his teeth, he follows her.

It's Friday night, and McRory's is crowded. It takes him a minute to spot her — just as she's leaving the bar with Hardison, his arm around her.

Every instinct tells Eliot to rush after them, to stop this, to get Parker back. But he doesn't move, except to the bar.

This is what he wanted, he thinks as he orders his first drink, this is for the best.

He's the hitter. If he's the only one who ends up hurt, well, that's his job, right?

* * *

His head is pounding, his mouth is dry as dust and he aches all over.

He sits up slowly, assessing his condition, taking inventory and wondering where he is, before he remembers the damage is completely self-inflicted.

Parker had left with Hardison.

He drops back onto his bed. His brain is working a little slow, so it takes him a moment to realize the pounding is still going on. And while his head hurts, the pounding itself is coming from the living room.

He stumbles to his feet, head spinning, and into the living room.

Wrenching the door open, he growls, "What?"

Hardison pushes past him, slamming the door behind him. "Whew! You smell like a tavern, nice, man. You look like you slept in a ditch, too, real charming. Are you trying out a homeless bum disguise?"

"Hardison -"

"I don't know what Parker sees in you."

"I don't ... Parker ... what?" Eliot doesn't like feeling slow, but that's exactly the situation he's in at the moment.

Hardison is pacing around the living room. "Just because I eat like a fifth-grader doesn't mean I ain't smarter than one. I hack the CIA on a daily basis. I can create an identity that will fool any government on earth. I held off a Steranko longer than any living human being."

"I -"

"You think I can't tell when two people are getting it on?"

Eliot finally manages to get out a sentence. "She left with you last night."

"Ahhhh," Hardison laughs, and Eliot winces at the bitterness he hears in it. "So that's the reason for the eau de homeless person? You were jealous that Parker was with me, crying herself to sleep on my couch because of you?"

"Crying?"

Hardison growls. Eliot can see the punch coming a mile away, but he doesn't try to duck. He has it coming, after all.

"Ow!" Hardison howls, shaking his hand. "Dammit!"

"How many times I gotta tell you, man, don't punch with your thumb inside the fist?"

"Don't ..." Hardison scowls, still holding his injured hand. "We ain't talking about my fighting technique. We're talking about how you slept with the woman I love and then broke her heart. That's what we're discussing here."

"I never meant to hurt her. And I didn't want to hurt you. Hardison -"

"I was mad at first," Hardison says. "But I know you wouldn't move on my ... on Parker if you hadn't thought I was dead."

"No, I never would have."

"So ... what? You think you could just take it back? There's no take-backs in this, Eliot. I never wanted to lose her, but it's too late. She loves you. And you are making her unhappy. So fix it."

"Hardison," Eliot says. "Are we OK?"

"I don't ..." Hardison coughs, clears his throat. "I'm gonna take a little break, take a few weeks off. Hit the beach, have some margaritas and senoritas. And when I get back, it's all cool. As long as Parker's not still crying on my couch."

Eliot nods. He hopes it's not too late to make things right. "It's a deal."

* * *

He takes a shower, trying to plan what he's going to say to Parker. He's gotten as far as "I was a moron, please forgive me" when the doorbell rings.

He pulls on his jeans and grabs a T-shirt on his way to the door. He yanks it on as he opens the door, freezing when he sees Parker.

Ringing his doorbell.

Parker, giving him the silent treatment, screwing up a job and ringing the doorbell instead of just breaking in.

This could not be good.

"Parker, I'm glad you're here," he says finally. "I needed to -"

"No," she says, pushing her way in, mirroring Hardison's movements from earlier. "I have to talk to you."

"Parker -"

"No," she repeats firmly. "Sophie says ... she says I have to tell you how I feel. She says I can't expect you to read my mind. You read it all the time when we're working, I don't see why this is different, but she says it is."

Eliot starts to speak, then thinks better of it. He's turned the whole thing into a major cluster; maybe it's time to let her have her say.

"When we thought they were dead, I felt dead too," she says, sitting on the couch and pulling her legs up under her. "I didn't know what to do, so I just ... followed you. I figured you knew what you were doing."

"I didn't," he says.

She laughs a little. "I figured that out after a while. But I liked traveling with you. And then we ... then it became more. And I ..." she trails off, staring at the floor. "I fell in love with you."

"Parker -" he feels everything tight in his chest loosen up at her words.

"Let me finish," she springs up off the couch and stands toe-to-toe with him, though she still doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I think you had feelings for me too. And if you don't want to be with me, it's only fair that you say so and not expect _me_ to read _your_ mind."

His heart is beating like he's gone ten rounds with a bunch of ninjas, but he manages to keep his voice steady. "That is fair."

Parker takes a deep breath, then raises her eyes to his.

"I never meant to love you," he says. "I just couldn't help it. But when we found out Hardison was alive, I didn't want to hurt him. And I thought you could be happy with him, so it was best for everyone."

He doesn't even see the punch coming, and it knocks him back a step. He's certainly taught her well. "Ow, Parker! What the hell? Is that how you react when a guy tells you he loves you?"

"Only when he's an idiot! I told you how it was with me and Hardison! I don't want to hurt Alec either, but I don't love him that way."

"You mean," he says, grinning, "the way you love me?"

"I'm reconsidering that," she says grumpily.

"Let me help you reconsider," he says, slipping his hands around her waist.

"You think you can just seduce me into forgetting how mean you were to me?" a smile plays around her mouth.

"It's worth a try," he mumbles, tracing his lips along her neck, breathing in the smell of her shampoo.

"Sophie says I should make you grovel," Parker says, pushing him back a step.

"Sophie says a lot." Remembering what she told him on the way back from Florida, he frowns, then clears his throat. "But she did say something I ... Well, I want you to know I'm sorry if you felt like I abandoned you. I promise, it will never happen again. If you really love me back, you're stuck with me."

She just stares at him for a moment, and he finds himself actually afraid. Then she smiles, and he knows it will all be OK.

"There is something wrong with you," she says, grinning. "But I can live with that."

The End


End file.
